


I’m Gonna Give You My Heart (‘Cause You’re A Sky Full Of Stars)

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Xmas Prompts [3]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-con mention, Thomas Barrow Xmas 2020, flangst, goddamn Anstruther is a predator, tragic backstory 101, xmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Jimmy and Thomas get drunk and make wishes.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Xmas Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031865
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43
Collections: A Very Thomas Barrow Christmas 2020





	I’m Gonna Give You My Heart (‘Cause You’re A Sky Full Of Stars)

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt 3: Christmas Wish - Character A overhears character B make a Christmas wish and decides to make it come true.
> 
> Warning for dubcon/noncon mention but it’s in the context of the characters past so nothing actually happens or is described in any sort of graphic way. This is flangst!
> 
> Yeah the title is a goddamn Coldplay song idk what my life has become but here I am.

It was nearly Christmas and The Dog and Duck had descended fully into the Yuletide spirit, the room swathed in great swags of holly and ivy, a too-tall tree jammed into one corner and decorated with as many gaudy baubles as it could possibly carry. Some of the branches were practically bowed down under the weight of the ugly ornaments. Jimmy and Thomas had felt particularly festive and daring and as such had snuck out after hours to rot their livers and lungs together on a wave of beer and endless cigarettes.

It was very late and Thomas was very drunk; Jimmy could see it in the slope of his usually-straight shoulders and by the way his hair had fallen over one eye, carefully pomaded strands tousled out of place by one of his uncharacteristically wild gestures.

“An’ I said to Bates, right? I said, that if his lordship said jump, he’d say ‘how high’ and then weep because he can’t jump at all!” Thomas finished, and stuck the cig between the lips of his satisfied smirk.

Jimmy grinned - partly at the story, partly at the sight of Thomas so relaxed. He hardly ever got drunk, like he was afraid he might reveal more of himself than he wanted with alcohol-loosened lips. Jimmy loved it though, to see Thomas so unguarded, his eyes crinkling with mirth, his posture so far removed from its usual rigidity.

But then, he loved everything about Thomas, so it was hardly surprising he found his inebriation appealing too.

“Pity I missed that,” Jimmy replied and knocked back the rest of his pint. He was buzzed, but nowhere near the level Thomas had reached. “What did he say?”

Thomas pursed his lips around the cig and took a long drag, his cheeks hollowed. “You know saintly Bates. Didn’t say much ‘case his halo slipped or summat.”

The barmaid interrupted their conversation to plonk two more pints on the table.

“Those are on th’ house,” she smiled at Jimmy, fluttering her eyelashes, “but don’t tell me boss. Merry Christmas fellas.”

Jimmy flipped her a cheeky wink and she giggled; it made him feel a bit queasy. Thomas gave an impassive sort of smirk.

As she walked back towards the bar Thomas gestured with his fag and said; “She likes you.”

Jimmy screwed up his face. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, I don’t think she’d be as _proper_ as Ivy, if that’s what you’re after.”

Jimmy blinked. It wasn’t like Thomas to talk about such things.

“She’s been eyeing you up since we got here - one word in her ear and she’d drop her knickers faster than you could say ‘ _shotgun wedding_ ’.” Thomas grinned and stubbed out his cig only to immediately replace it with another.

“Shut up will ya?” Jimmy laughed, blushing, “She’s not my type.”

Thomas pulled a face Jimmy had never seen him wear whilst sober. “Even _I_ can see she’s pretty - pretty, fast girls not your type now, are they?”

“No,” Jimmy admitted, “not anymore.”

Thomas gave him a funny sort of look. “Didn’t know you were so fussy ‘bout it. What _is_ your type then?”

“Tall brunettes with ivory skin, cheekbones that could cut ya and red lips,” Jimmy said, then paled, realising his slip. Perhaps he was more sloshed than he thought.

“Even I’m not stupid enough to think you’d win over Lady Mary,” Thomas grinned, oblivious, “don’t think your usual patter would work on her.”

Jimmy took a swig of his beer to avoid saying anything else on the matter, until curiosity got the better of him and he asked; “So what about you? What’s your type then?”

Thomas choked on a lung-full of cigarette smoke. “I don’t think you really want to know that.”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“I uh,” Thomas frowned and looked away, “it’s not really _suitable_ talk, is it?”

“Course it is,” Jimmy leaned forwards, stole the cig from between Thomas’s fingers and shoved it in his own mouth. He needed something to occupy him whilst they talked about _that_ , and cigarettes always tasted better once Thomas had already had his mouth around them. “Blokes talk about that an’ much worse when they’re alone and you know it.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Some of the things I heard in the trenches made even me blush.”

Jimmy slammed a hand down on the table top. “See? It’s what mates talk about and - well, we ain’t got any other mates, have we? Thomas and Jimmy contra mundi, ain’t it?”

Thomas’s cheeks coloured with a blush - it suited him. “It’s contra _mundum,_ you know. Latin’s not your strong suit.”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“Fine,” Thomas huffed, “but don’t you dare get all _funny_ ‘bout it. You asked.”

“I promise!”

“Well...” he gave a little sigh then continued; “when you’re like me you don’t have many opportunities - you have to take what comes along whether it’s your _type_ or not so...I don’t, I try not to think about it. It’s a dream that’ll never come true and - oh, you’ve got me talkin’ like some bloody soppy girl now,” he grumped and swigged his beer.

“S’not very romantic is it?” Jimmy frowned, “Just like, any warm body will do?”

“No don’t suppose it is. I don’t have the privilege of being romantic though, do I?”

Jimmy thought about that, his fingers drumming on the table as he smoked Thomas’s cig. It pained him to think of Thomas grabbing any encounter he could just to have the chance to feel something. He’d tried - and failed - to do the same thing with girls before and it had just left him with an empty ache in his chest and a rolling nausea in his stomach. The way Thomas had behaved towards Jimmy, who he’d genuinely thought was interested in return, made more sense for knowing it though. “It’s not fair really, is it?”

Thomas sighed, “No, it’s not. But this - we’re supposed to be celebrating and I’m too tight to start getting all maudlin.”

Jimmy grinned. “Back to bawdy it is then. So how many uh, blokes have you, y’know?”

“Well there was uh, one, two, then uh _that_ bloke, and...four.”

“Four?” Jimmy couldn’t think he’d ever even met four men like Thomas.

“Oh, and the Duke. So five.”

“Wait, a duke?” Jimmy grinned, delighted at this tidbit of new information, “You never?!”

Thomas scrunched up his nose and nodded; “Were hardly in love or anything that, it were just a fling. He turned out to be a bit of a bastard in the end.”

“What did you expect from a duke?” Jimmy smirked, “He were never gonna take you home to his mother, was he?”

Thomas snorted a laugh and said; “Not bloody likely, no.”

“Have you ever been in love then?” Jimmy asked impulsively, but regretted it when Thomas’s face closed up neatly at the question.

“You know I have,” he said, staring at his empty glass.

 _Shite_. “I uh,” Jimmy nudged Thomas with his knee under the table, “I wasn’t trying to be an arse, I didn’t mean to bring it up. Sorry.”

Thomas shrugged, clearly drunk enough to not feel as awkward about it as he normally would. “What about you?”

“Love? God no.” Jimmy lied.

“Ah, of course. Would be hard to fall in love with someone else when you’re obviously so in love with yourself.”

“Hey!” Jimmy grinned, not really offended. Thomas couldn’t know how much the opposite was true. Jimmy didn’t even like himself - what was there to like really?

“What about the other thing then? Y’know? _Women_?” Thomas said it with such distaste it made Jimmy chuckle into his glass 

“Uh,” Jimmy’s mouth twisted as he came up with a lie or two, but it felt wrong to be dishonest when Thomas had been so uncharacteristically open about everything. It was strange; Jimmy could lie with impunity to everyone except Thomas, where his conscience always punished him for it beyond what he was due. He supposed the magnitude of the lies he had told the under-butler were the cause of it. “Just the one, actually,” he finally admitted, embarrassed.

“Oh? Nothing wrong with that. It’s one more than most unmarried blokes.”

“Yeah, and it were more than once too but,” Jimmy wasn’t sure he was drunk enough to talk about it. “Let me get another drink in and I’ll tell ya.”

Thomas pulled a disapproving face when Jimmy returned from the bar with a whole bottle of cheap whiskey.

“I don’t want to know what you promised the bar maid to get that,” he said, lips pursed around another cig.

“Nothin’,” Jimmy grinned, pouring out two generous glasses, “that’s the trick. You never actually _promise_ them anythin’.” He slid one glass across the table to Thomas.

Thomas eyed the liquid warily, took a sip and coughed; “That’s rough, bloody hell.”

“It’ll get the job done,” Jimmy replied, stealing a smoke from Thomas’s pack. And he downed the whole glass before pouring himself another.

Thomas let his head fall back against the wall behind him, his cheeks now a merry pink, and exposed an expanse of his pale throat. Jimmy was drunk enough that he allowed himself to stare; he wondered how Thomas would taste, and what it would feel like to run his lips over the soft skin of his jaw and his neck.

“So,” Thomas broke the silence between them, “you were gonna tell me ‘bout this one woman.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, “I uh, after me mum and dad died...”

“Sorry.”

“Ta. After they died I went into service - didn’t have much of a choice unless I wanted to starve to death. And I ended up at Anstruther’s. I were seventeen.”

Thomas didn’t say anything but his expression became grave.

“It started - um, I’d been there ‘bout a week when _she_ spotted me.”

“Lady Anstruther you mean?” Thomas’s cigarette was an untouched column of ash.

Jimmy nodded. “Of course I were a _lad_ , I thought it were grand that she were interested in me and I - I didn’t - I mean I _could’ve_ said no.”

Thomas leaned forwards, frowning; “And she’d have taken no for an answer, would she?”

Jimmy stilled and wished he hadn’t started the whole damn conversation.

“Thought not,” Thomas said, his eyes dark. “And, more importantly, did you _want_ to say no?”

Jimmy blinked. No one had ever asked him that before, if he’d actually wanted it - everyone just assumed he’d been thrilled to get his end away. The truth was he’d been terrified of saying anything in case he were sacked, or worse and she’d claimed he forced it or something. If it had come to her word against his, he knew what the outcome would’ve been. He wasn’t fool enough to think anyone would’ve believed a lowly third footman over a Dowager.

“I,” Jimmy’s chest felt tight and his eyes were hot like he was going to bloody cry, right there in the pub, “I didn’t want her. I never did. But what was I supposed to do?” He stared at the worn, water-stained top of the table and blinked back the idiotic tears that threatened to fall.

Thomas’s knee came to rest against Jimmy’s, hidden beneath the table. Jimmy was grateful for the small comfort, even if he wished for more.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Thomas said, his voice low. “There’s no shame in doing what you must to survive. She’s the one what did wrong, she should be ashamed.”

Jimmy scoffed; “She’s never felt shame once in her life that one.”

“Someone should make her.”

Jimmy looked up to see Thomas’s eyes on him - the intensity of his gaze made Jimmy swallow thickly. “Who? You?”

“If you asked me to,” Thomas replied darkly, “I’d find a way.”

It was in that moment that Jimmy was hit with the extent of Thomas’s love for him - that he’d destroy someone’s life with a jaunty smile on his blessed face and a song in his heart, if it would make Jimmy one jot happier. He was tempted for a moment to say ‘yes _, please_ _ruin her life the way she ruined mine’_. But no, Jimmy wouldn’t ask Thomas to risk himself like that.

“There’s not much point really,” Jimmy said, “I’ve moved on. I - I don’t even think of it that often now,” he said, a lie, which Thomas surely saw through. “And even if there were, I wouldn’t ask it of you. She’s a nasty thing when she wants to be and I wouldn’t risk you getting caught up in her net.”

They shared a wan smile then Jimmy said; “Let’s go, shall we? I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Thomas nodded and quietly followed Jimmy outside - they walked silently, with only the moon for company, down the lanes towards the Abbey. Thomas smoked, his mouth downturned and his eyes far away like he was remembering some great sadness.

Jimmy gazed up at the sky, where there were a few stars visible between the dark ribbons of cloud. Suddenly there was a streak of light, a blindingly white stripe that fell from almost directly above him and burned across the sky.

“Thomas!” Jimmy exclaimed, and the under-butler looked up just in time to see the shooting star dip below the tree line. “Now we have to make a wish,” Jimmy smiled, his melancholy mood forgotten, “it’s the rules.”

“Who’s rules exactly?” Thomas frowned.

“You know, it’s just what you have to do. You see a falling star and you make a wish, and it’s s’posed to come true.”

“You sound like a character in a fairy story. Will me godmother come down on a moonbeam and get me ready for the ball an’ all?”

“Pfft,” Jimmy pulled a face, “don’t be so boring! It’s fun, alright?”

Thomas lit another cig, his face a picture of disdain. “Fun. Really.”

“Well I’m going to do it,” Jimmy huffed, “and it’s Christmas, which means it’s extra likely for your wish to come true.”

This earned Jimmy an eye roll and a cloud of smoke exhaled in his direction. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“Am not. Everyone knows it.” Jimmy drummed his fingers on his thigh, thinking. “Ah! I know. I wish for a whole week off to do as I please. And I want you to have it off with me.”

Thomas choked on his cigarette.

Jimmy’s eyes went wide and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Not like _that_ you git, you know what I meant.”

“No no,” Thomas smirked, “having it off with me for a week is a fine wish.”

“Oh shut up you _bastard_ ,” Jimmy said and elbowed Thomas in the ribs. “Now you.”

“No thanks.”

“S’not optional.”

Thomas sighed as if being friends with Jimmy was a great chore indeed. “Alright, fine, let me think for a minute.”

Silence for much, much longer than a minute. Jimmy tapped his foot impatiently and suspected the under-butler was winding him up.

“Can I wish for more wishes?” Thomas asked eventually, one eyebrow raised archly.

“No, no, of course you can’t. That’s cheating.”

Thomas smirked. “Alright, bloody hell, I didn’t know you were one of the Brothers Grimm.”

“Just get on with it!”

“I’m not about to waste my one wish on something stupid like you did. I mean a week off, really? If you wished for a fortune or to be a lord you’d need never have to work again.”

Jimmy frowned. He made a good point. “Is that your wish then? To be some rich Lord who can buy whatever he wants?”

“Money can’t buy what I want,” Thomas said, his mouth twisting into a wistful smile.

“What...what do you wish for, Thomas?” Jimmy pressed, suddenly desperate to know.

Thomas looked away and gave a self-deprecating sort of shrug. “For love,” he said quietly, as if it were something to be ashamed of. He turned his pale face up to the moon, his grey eyes a match for the veiled stars, and in that moment he looked so incredibly tired and sad that Jimmy’s heart ached with it.

Jimmy was stunned though, that the great and unmovable Mr Barrow was a fool for the same thing as most other men; love. But of course, Jimmy knew Thomas loved him, it was writ in his every word and action, no matter how hard the under-butler tried to hide it. What Thomas didn’t know was that Jimmy loved him in return.

Because he did. Of course he did. It was as obvious and unquestionable as the knowledge that the sun rose every morning and set every evening to make way for the silver sphere of the moon.

And really, it was a tragedy of fairytale proportions for them to both be in love with the other and not be together. It was bleedin’ _Shakespearean_.

“Thomas,” Jimmy said quietly, “I lied earlier.”

“Oh?” Thomas pinched off his cig, casting it into the hedge. “Bout what?”

“When I said I’d never been in love. I - I have,” he stammered, “Just once.”

Thomas arranged his features into what he probably hoped was a nonplussed expression, but was too sloshed to completely hide the hurt in his eyes. “Am I lucky enough to know this blessed soul?”

Jimmy scuffed the toe of his shoe against the road. “Yeah.”

“Ivy, then?”

Jimmy sneered, affronted. “As if! She’s hardly got two thoughts to rub together. I could never.”

Thomas smirked at that but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t think it were her heaving _intellect_ you were after, if I’m honest.” His brow creased in thought, then he said; “Please tell me you’ve not turned into Branson and gone soft for some upstairs twit?”

Jimmy huffed a laugh. “No, but the airs he puts on sometimes makes me wonder ‘bout him.”

Thomas blinked. “ _Him_?”

 _Shite_. “I uh,” Jimmy stared up at the pitted face of the moon and sort of wished it would fall to the earth and crush him. It would be less painful than talking about his feelings. “Yeah. So, funny thing is, turns out I’m a bit of a _hypocrite_.” He could feel Thomas’s eyes on him as he spoke.

“I don’t think - maybe I’m more soused than I thought because - I don’t understand what you’re saying Jimmy?”

Jimmy took a breath. “I love...”

Silence stretched out between them and the revelation hung in the air like an ellipsis - bitten off, unfinished.

Unable to bear it, Jimmy dragged his gaze away from the moon looked down to find Thomas staring at him in wonder, his face devastatingly open and vulnerable. In that moment Jimmy knew that if he took it back now, or lied, or made excuses - it would be worse than when he’d thrown Thomas out of his room in the night. It would be worse than when he’d run away at the fair and let Thomas take a beating meant for him. It would be the most cowardly thing he’d ever done and it would probably mean the end of the friendship they’d built. He might just lose Thomas forever.

And that thought was so terrifying, it spurred Jimmy to press onwards through his discomfort and out into unknown territory.

“I love _you_ , Thomas,” Jimmy said finally, “I do, truly.”

Silence. Thomas blinked several times and his mouth opened and closed dumbly until Jimmy could stand it no longer and rashly pressed his lips against the under-butler’s. Thomas made a sort of mumbling _mmmphhh_ of surprise, but then almost immediately kissed Jimmy back, his hands clutching at Jimmy’s lapels.

They broke apart, both men wide-eyed and breathless, then Thomas smirked and said; “Blimey, when can I expect my fairy godmother to arrive then?”

“Oh give over, you _arse_ ,” Jimmy replied, and kissed him again, more teeth than lips, until Thomas pushed his tongue into Jimmy’s mouth and he lost the ability to think.

“I’m changin’ me wish,” Jimmy said, “I wish for you to do _that_ every day, for the rest of me life.”

Thomas grinned. “Now that’s a wish I _can_ make come true.”


End file.
